


Beginnings

by Introvertedintellect350



Category: CaptainSwan Fandom, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emma learns to trust again, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, POV Alternating, but not really, captainswan - Freeform, cs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertedintellect350/pseuds/Introvertedintellect350
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at nearly midnight, and when I asked you what you were doing, you slurred something about dogs being great then threw up on my feet. Then fifteen minutes later you're passed out on my couch, so that's why you're here right now but what the hell is your name and why did you decide to come pet a dog in a strangers backyard in the middle of the night. </p><p>An alternate first meeting for Emma and Killian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is How It Begins

"Just can't catch a bloody break can I?" Killian Jones mumbled drunkenly to himself as he staggered out of the bar named after rabbits or something. His head was pounding and he could barely stand up, but he made his way down the sidewalk, still mumbling. His wife of four years, Milah, had gone and left him yesterday for some fool with a lame leg calling himself Mr. Gold. She'd run off in a rage after ranting to him about how he couldn't keep a job, always drank, and couldn't stop eyeing other women. Truth was, women couldn't keep their eyes off of _him_. They kept calling him "devilishly handsome" and such. He didn't see the problem with entertaining the notion, but Milah couldn't see past his flirty bluster to see that his heart belonged to her.

And the drinking. Now, she wasn't particularly wrong about that, but he wasn't a bloody alcoholic. He just happened to like rum and always had a flask on him and would take a swig from time to time. But at the current moment, he'd drunk more than a few sips of rum. His heart had just been broken and he'd gone to the Rabbit Hole Tavern for a drink and perhaps a pretty lady to keep his mind off Milah (although that was a lost cause). As he staggered down a side street with two black eyes and a spinning conscious, he vaguely thought that maybe he shouldn't have gone after the tall, leggy brunette with red streaks in her long hair who apparently was together with a man the size of an elf (he insisted he was a dwarf and that it was a genetic trait, whatever the bloody heck that meant). 

His stomach rolled and Killian groaned, leaning against a fence as he fought to hold his liquor. Usually he didn't get completely wasted like this, but could anyone blame him? The love of his life had just left him, and he'd gotten kicked out of the bar for getting into a bar fight that he hadn't wanted to start. The girl - Ruby – had been practically inviting him over! But look where _that_ had gotten him. So now he leaned on the rickety fence and clutched at his head - he'd pay with a hangover headache tomorrow - and tried to collect his thoughts and his emotions. The bottle of rum he'd consumed had made his emotions flood to the surface, and now he felt like simultaneously screaming in rage and breaking down and sobbing, both of which were very unlike him. 

Then he heard the dog barking on the other side of the fence he was leaning on and his heart just about jumped out of his chest. A dog. A dog could be his comfort. They didn't lie, scream at him, or cheat. So in his foggy, extremely drunken state of mind, Killian made the decision to go pet the dog. He found the gate through the black spots dancing in his vision and let himself into its yard, not even registering that he was trespassing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was sometime around ten thirty when Emma finally decided to call it quits for the night. She'd been working all day on a case and still hadn't found any substantial leads. So she shut her laptop down and decided to go to bed. It had been an exhausting day, driving all through town following this guy on a lead that lead nowhere. Walsh was the guy's name and she'd been following on account of him trying to propose to her then frame her for stealing a car (which he obviously stole, it had his fingerprints all over it), and some jewelry (a bit harder to disprove, but she was still working the case). This was the reason she didn't date. Men were untrustworthy liars, and almost always broke her heart. She'd built a wall around it over the years, but had still dated on and off, having one-night stands then bolting. It was how she ran things in her little, lonely world. She hadn't even kept her son, having been ignorant and stupid enough to believe that a man would take care of her _and_ a child after he'd gotten her pregnant at eighteen. That was why she had trust issues. 

But there was one thing that she let stay in her life and keep her company. That was her dog Archie, a three year old golden retriever who couldn't be more friendly and trusting. She swore every time she took him for a walk she got stopped by at _least_ three people asking to pet him and then comment on how friendly he was. He was like a therapy dog, getting people to spill their guts while feeling understood and comforted by the fact that there was someone there. Maybe that was why she'd gotten him, so she could have someone to talk to. Even if he was just her pet.

Which reminded her, he was still outside. She'd forgotten to let him in as she'd been busy with the Walsh case. 

"Archie!" Emma called, opening up the sliding glass back door of her first-floor apartment and peering out into the yard. When he didn't come running to her like he usually did, the familiar knot of tension took hold in her stomach. Stepping out onto the wooden slats of her small back porch, she called again for her dog, then broke off halfway through his name when she saw a man petting her dog. 

"What the hell?" She exclaimed, her expression a mask of confusion and anger. Why was a man sitting in the grass with his arms around her dog, stroking his ears like they meant the world to him? He was drunk obviously. Way past drunk. Quite possibly blackout drunk. That still gave him absolutely no reason to be sitting here in her yard. How had he gotten in anyway? The gate was - _crap_. Of course she'd forgotten to lock the gate after letting Archie back in after their walk around town this evening.

Her anger and confusion rose to a boil and she ran a hand through her hair and out of her face, wondering what to do about the drunk man in her yard. Granted, a decidedly good looking drunk man with day-old stubble and just-long-enough-to-look-good-mussed-up black hair. She couldn't see the color of his eyes, but the expression on his face was that of an emotionally hurt man; and he was sporting two black eyes. Her instincts told her to take Archie and kick the man out, but her mind was telling her something much different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The softness of the dog’s fur was almost enough to push him over the edge. He felt absolutely pathetic, on the verge of tears and ready to keep the dog as his companion forever. His fingers felt the retrievers floppy ears clumsily and too roughly, but it felt so nice. God, he was pathetic. 

Then he heard the sound of a door sliding open and a women stepped out, calling for an "Archie." Then she cut herself off and a loud, "What the hell?" Was exclaimed. Killian looked up from the dogs face and into the face of an angry blonde who was obviously confused about why he was sitting next to her dog at eleven o'clock at night. 

"Hello, lass." He slurred, attempting a grin. She was beautiful, even as her hazel eyes looked down on him crossly. "You've got a nice pup here."

"And you're stupid drunk. What are you doing in my yard?" 

Well wasn't she demanding. Why was she so cross with him? He was just trying to find some comfort and her dog was providing it very well. Although it wasn't exactly good form to greet a woman - especially one as fair-looking as she - by sitting in her grass. Yet when Killian decided to stand up, so did the alcohol he had consumed, as well as the god-awful fries he'd eaten while at the tavern. 

Bloody hell. He'd just vomited all over her bare feet as well as his own. He didn't blame her when she yelled several loud curses and jumped away from him, her face a mask of disgust and something else his brain failed to recognize. Could it be pity? Surely not. Either way, she still had his puke all over her feet. What a way to meet a woman.

"I'm so sorry, love." He apologized as sincerely as he possibly could in his intoxicated state. "I didn't mean to....ah..." He groaned as his stomach rolled painfully again and Killian clutched his stomach, falling to his knees and retching again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma was seriously tempted to call the cops, even more so as he attempted to stand up and introduce himself (even while drunk his accent was infuriatingly swoon worthy, not that she noticed. No, of course not), then proceed to puke his guts out all over her feet. 

She was backing up quickly and looking around for the garden hose as the man tried to apologize then vomited again. Great. She would have some serious cleaning up to do in the morning. Fortunately, she'd found the hose and was washing her feet off while grimacing in disgust. This was going on her list of Bad Things That Have Happened to Emma Swan. In the top three. First one being dumped by her parents in the middle of a freaking forest on some road and left for dead or until someone found her. Number two being....well....probably this night. 

By the time she had gotten her feet washed off and coiled up the hose again, she noticed that the poor man was now practically asleep in her yard. As much as her brain told her to kick him into the street, some small part of her wanted to take pity and make sure he didn't die by running into a car or drinking even more, or something. Rolling her eyes to herself, Emma walked over to him and crouched next to him. 

"Hey, I have a couch you can crash on for the night. I don't want to let you stay, but I can also see that you can't even walk, so I guess you can stay." 

The man looked up at her for the first time and good _God_ his eyes were blue. They were also seriously bloodshot and she could tell he was having trouble focusing on her. She'd never seen someone so drunk (although she may or may not have gotten this drunk one time herself). Something terrible must have happened to make him go out and get himself wasted like that. 

She was shaken out of her rambling thoughts when he mumbled something. She leaned a little closer to make out what he was trying to say, failing to cover a grimace when his rancid breath fanned over her face.

"'S not good form....I can go home, jus' help me up...." 

Emma leaned back as the man attempted to stand up for the second time. She applauded him for the effort. He actually got into his feet this time without losing the contents of his stomach, but then immediately swayed and fell into her. She grunted as his sudden weight, wrinkling her nose and muttering about how he definitely needed to sleep it off.

So the dragging/walking back into the house commenced. She had her arms around his waist, supporting nearly his entire weight as they staggered through the back door. The poor man fell asleep the very second she laid him on the couch. For a few long minutes, she stood there and watched him sleep (Yes, creepy. But what did he expect after barging into her yard in the middle of the night more drunken than a sailor?) Then she leaned down and looked for his wallet. She needed to identify him, and there was no way he was waking up anytime soon. Her fingers found his wallet in the inside pocket of his black leather coat, and she flipped it open, reading his ID. “Killian Jones. . . “ She muttered to herself, her eyebrows rising as she saw his picture. He was downright _hot_ with an enticing smirk on his lips and his ocean blue eyes, and his styled-but-rugged hair that swooped slightly over his forehead. She would never have guessed that this obscenely drunk man stumbling around and puking in her yard was as good-looking as this, although being drunk tends to kick the charm out of anybody. He wasn’t exactly the most charming tonight, although if she was to admit, her heart had kicked up a notch just by looking at him. But that was probably just the shock of finding a drunken man in her backyard hugging Archie.

After five more minutes of staring at Killian had passed, Emma found herself yawning and her head nodding. She checked the clock and saw the time was a little past eleven thirty. She really needed to get some sleep. So she let Archie inside and then went to bed, trusting the man passed out on her couch to not move until she got up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian woke with a headache similar to the last time he’d gotten this drunk out of his skull (which was a long time ago). He groaned and rolled over, clutching his head then letting out a startled yell as he fell to the floor, off the couch. He cursed and sat up, looking around through squinted eyes. Where in the bloody- 

“Hey, you okay?” 

His head turned quickly to look at the sound of the voice but he winced, regretting his quick movement. He located the sound of the voice and a look of confusion crossed his already pained facial expression. “Who are you and where the hell am I?” He demanded. 

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to him, sitting down in the armchair by his feet. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders and her hazel eyes boring into his. He squinted even more, a ghost of a memory pushing its way through his hungover brain. Had he seen her before? Well obviously because he was in her house. But why? 

"You trespassed into my backyard to pet my dog at eleven last night, then when I asked what you were doing on my property, you puked all over my feet then passed out on my couch. You were probably blackout drunk, seeing as you can't remember what you're doing here. You're lucky I didn't call the cops."

Killian groaned and hung his head, staring at the floor beneath his knees, his mind spinning, trying to remember the gray area that was last night. He remembered Milah leaving him and then going to the Rabbit Hole for a drink. Everything after that was in a deep fog and he remembered nothing. Almost nothing, actually, as he did vaguely recall a dog and looking up into those hazel eyes that were on him with such concern. "Why'd you let me stay, love?" 

She shrugged, blinking down at him, "Took pity on you I guess. I did look through your wallet though, just to see who you were."

Killian was hit with the urge to laugh, so he grinned even though it hurt to do so. "Didn't take anything, I hope."

"Nah, nothing of interest. Nice name though; Irish?"

"Killian Jones, aye. What's yours?”

She smiled slightly, standing up off the armchair and walking around the coffee table towards her small kitchen, "Emma Swan. I'm gonna make some coffee, want some?" 

"Swan. Fitting." He mumbled softly to himself, still grinning as he watched her walk into the kitchen, glancing back at him and waiting for an answer. "Yes, I'd love some.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma had woken up to the sound of Killian falling off the couch with a loud tell and several curses, then she rushed in to see him sprawled on the floor clutching at his head. It was difficult not to laugh at him now that the scare he'd given her earlier was wearing off. Falling off a couch when you have no idea where you are or how you got there can be quite terrifying.

She knew coffee wouldn't cure a hangover, but it certainly helped, so she offered some to him and then made them each a mug. She needed it after a long weird night, and could use the caffeine to wake her up. Of course, cocoa with cinnamon would taste better, but she needed all the energy she could get. 

In the hour that followed Emma learned that Killian Jones was a sailor (should I call you Captain Jones, then?) and traveled around delivering goods in his ship the _Jolly Roger_ for a living, but lived here in Boston. He had a brother (Liam) who had unfortunately died while shipping boxes of what he thought was a precious medicine. Turned out it was deadly plant (Killian had warned him against taking the plant) and he died by it while trying to recover from a serious illness. 

She told him that she was a bail bonds woman, an orphan from birth, and she was up so late last night working a case. She spared him the details and instead asked him why in the _world_ he thought trespassing and petting a dog in the middle of the night was a good idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You see, Swan," He chuckled and shifted the half empty mug in his hands then gave her the saddest look. "My wife left me for some limping fool and I'm a little heartbroken. It's pathetic really, and I wasn't expecting to react so...so...harshly. I apologize for acting much unlike myself last night. Truthfully, I wasn't myself last night, and I can usually hold my liquor much better." 

Emma simply gave him a small smile and nodded slightly, "It's okay, I understand, really. I've gone a little crazy too after a particularly bad relationship, although I've only really allowed myself one serious relationship and that ended terribly (why was she confessing all this to a man she hardly knew?). But I will say I've never met a man who came into my yard just to pet my dog." She laughed then, and the room seemed just a little brighter and happier. Her head tilted back and her eyes squinted shut for a few moments, then she composed herself before he could begin to laugh with her. A wide grin had come to his face, however, and he chuckled, looking down at his mostly empty mug of now cold coffee. 

"Not my finest moment, I'll admit. Something I will regret for quite a while. But perhaps gratitude is in order?" Killian looked up his grin fading and a crooked smile replacing it, the fingers of his right hand unconsciously coming up to brush his lips. 

She shook her head before he could say anything else. "You already paid your dues and said your sorry's. Although...." Emma paused and watched him with somewhat of a conflicted expression. Then she took a breath, let it out slowly with puffed cheeks (which looked absolutely adorable, although he figured she wasn't the kind of woman who liked being called adorable. Feisty, maybe; perhaps stubborn, but never adorable). His eyes stayed on hers and hers on his as she finally began to speak again, slowly and carefully. "Although maybe you could pay your gratitude by buying me a drink later? Tomorrow?" 

He raised his eyebrows and the confident, playful smile took a different turn and he smirked. "Asking me on a date already? I've just broke off with my wife of _four years_ , have the hangover of a lifetime, and you're asking me out."

Immediately shame and guilt overtook her expression, "I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry." She paused for a moment then shrugged almost carelessly. "But what have you got to lose?" He could hear the false bravado in her voice and immediately knew the tone. He'd used the very same tone more times than he could count. He had to give her credit for trying. 

Slowly he nodded, "Well, love, you've convinced me." He may still be hurting over Milah, but he should have known it wouldn't last. The love he felt for her was very real, but there'd always been something a bit off. Here with Emma Swan, however, things felt right. Good. It might have been simply because she'd let his crash on her couch and vomit all over her yard and nurse the worst hangover of his life; or it might be because there was something about her that attracted him. Not just her looks either, although she was killing him in that white tank top. He nodded again, "Tell me where and when. And I promise I won't get drunk again." 

The hopeful smile that she was trying unsuccessfully to hide made his answer completely worth it. His headache was still there and throbbing painfully, but when she stood up to take their mugs back to the kitchen, he stood with her, mug in hand. "So I suppose I'll see you later then, Swan. Shall we swap contact information then part ways till we meet again?" His rakish grin was back, even as he swayed on his feet when a wave of dizziness overtook him and he had to steady himself on the arm of the couch. 

"Sure. Sit back down before you fall over, I'll be right back." Her tone broached no argument, yet he didn't listen, instead simply pulling out his phone with a pointed look at her back as she took their mugs into the kitchen. 

Ten minutes later he was walking out her front door with her number saved in his phone and a surprising lightness in his mood. 

"Good luck catching that monster who framed you for stealing his car, Swan." He said sincerely as they parted ways. "See you later."

"Thanks, Killian. Bye." She gave him a warm smile and then closed the door. He let a wide smile overtake his face and he walked down her porch steps only tripping once (bloody hangover). Maybe things would get better after all. He hoped Milah was happy with her choice, because he was happy with the path their parting had taken him down.


	2. This Is How It Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second and final chapter 2 that I've taken a ridiculously long time to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO sorry for taking forever to write this second chapter I promised you all. I got hit with a wave of writers block and then a wave of depression (zero motivation to do anything whatsoever), so. . . yeah, I'm so sorry. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I'm mostly pleased, so I hope you enjoy this, now that it's here!

_'How does Emmet’s sound?'_ Emma sent the message then waited as Killian's three little dots appeared below her text. His reply popped up a moment later. 

_'That's that Irish pub isn't it? I see what you're doing, love, but sure. What time shall I pick you up?'_

Grinning to herself, she typed a quick reply. _'You're onto me. But no need to pick me up. Just meet me there at seven.'_ She didn't want to get trapped into a corner with no quick escape if the date went badly. She would bring her own car (her trusty yellow Bug), and Killian would bring his own vehicle. 

_'Right, let's just toss those first date misconceptions right out the window then. I'll see you then, Swan.'_

She let out a breath of relief when he accepted her conditions, and replied one last time. _'See you then.'_

"Come on Archie, let's go for a walk." Emma said, standing up and tucking her phone in her pocket. She needed some exercise before she could do anymore tracking on Walsh or even _think_ about figuring out what to wear tonight. She wasn't usually all that concerned about her appearance on dates, especially not ones she went on to find whatever criminal she was currently tracking down and pretending to have drinks with just to get information. This date was different (besides the fact that Killian Jones was no criminal, not that she knew of anyway), and she wanted to actually think about what she was wearing. Although, the first time he'd seen her she had been dressed in her pajamas and her hair was a mess, so anything was a step up from that. 

Still wrapped up in her thoughts, she clipped the leash to Archie's collar and stepped out the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian set his phone down after deciding with Emma where to go for drinks later that evening, smiling, then picked it back up as it began ringing. The smile fell off his face and his mood instantly dropped when he saw the caller ID. He silently cursed himself for thinking that it might possibly be Emma, calling to tell him something else, and he glared at the screen when he saw that it was Milah. Letting out a sigh, he answered it. 

"Milah. Yes?" He could hear his own voice, sounding clipped and surprisingly angry. 

"Killian, I'm so sorry. I truly am-"

"Don't want to hear it, you've moved on and so have I. What do you want?" He asked abruptly, looking down at his ex-wife's things piled by the door.

When she spoke again, the hurt in her voice was apparent. "Well I ah . . . need to come get my things and we both have divorce papers to sign . . ."

"Alright, when?" 

"I was thinking in an hour?" 

"Aye. I'll be here." Then he hung up and tossed his phone onto the couch, watching angrily as it bounced from the cushions to the floor. Well his mood was ruined for the day, and seeing Milah would only make it worse. But at least he knew she was happier without him. Because as much as it hurt right now, he would be happier without her. That was why he'd accepted Emma's date offer, right? Because he'd felt a feeling that could turn into something much stronger, given time. 

Flopping down onto the couch now, he picked up his phone and set it on the cushion next to him and then simply waited, knowing she would show up early. Not too early, but within forty-five minutes. 

Sure enough, forty-five minutes later he heard a knock at the front door. _At least she's polite enough not to walk right in._ Killian thought dryly as he got up to answer the door. He forced a small smile at the woman in front of him and nodded. "All your effects are right here. I gathered them for you."

"Thank you, Killian." Milah returned his small smile with a slightly bigger one of her own, as if she was trying to wordlessly apologize for what she'd caused. He would accept her apology, but he didn't want her back. Not now that he'd found Emma, he was more than willing to see what would happen with her rather than his ex-wife whom he fit well with, but not perfectly. Emma seemed to have that missing puzzle piece that he hadn't felt with Milah, not even in the beginning; and especially not now, as she picked up a box and a blanket of hers and walked back out to her car. Ever the gentleman he knew he should be, Killian picked up a couple of boxes and helped her move out.  
Once all of her things were removed, he offered to sit down at the couch and officially sign the divorce papers. 

"I'll miss you, you know." She said as she sat down beside him, spreading the sheets out in front of them on the worn coffee table. 

"Me too, darling." He replied, and meaning it. They had shared many wonderful moments together and he couldn't forget how happy she had made him when he was at a dark place in his life. But that was in the past now. They were both moving on. "What do I need to sign?" He asked after a few long moments, her gaze capturing his. He found himself comparing her stormy gray gaze to the lively hazel of Emma Swans and tore his eyes away and back to the papers in front of them. 

"Just these," she pointed to three different sheets of paper and handed him a pen. "And I ah, assume you'd like to keep your ring?" Her voice was soft and forgiving now, drastically different from the night she'd been cursing his name, falling out of love with him and helping him do the same. It sounded like the voice he'd fallen in love with, as much as he didn't want to admit the truth. 

"If you'll keep yours, I'll keep mine." He replied, signing the first sheet. Milah had already signed all three sheets and for some reason his heart sank even lower. She was truly done with him, wasn't she. 

He looked up from signing the second sheet, the smooth cursive of his name blooming on the page, officially breaking their vows. Milah was twisting the golden band around and around on her finger, staring at him with a lugubrious expression. 

"You don't want to keep the ring?" He asked. 

She shook her head, rolling her lips into her mouth then pursing them to speak. "It's not that. It's Gold. He says if you and I are truly divorcing, then neither of us should keep our rings. But especially me."

"That bastard." He spat, eyes narrowing. He took the ring off of his own finger and handed it to Milah. "Well I won't have you feeling bad about your new relationship. You can keep them, throw them away, or pawn them off for all I care." 

She simply nodded, taking the ring from him. "It's probably for the best anyway. Are you done signing?"

Killian looked back at the final line he had yet to sign then looked back at Milah and set the pen down. "I must do one more thing first, before this is official." He met her gray gaze steadily, holding for a few long seconds, then leaned in and kissed her. He was saying goodbye in the only way he saw fit. 

At first she didn't react, then when he brought his fingers up to brush her cheek, he felt her lips mold against his and she relaxed into him, returning the heartfelt kiss. He brought his other hand up and cupped her face, kissing her until he needed to breathe. When he pulled away he saw tears in her eyes and his own emotions began to rise to the surface. Were they sure this was the right thing to do? Then he mentally kicked himself. Of _course_ it was. It was the right thing to do, to go their separate ways and see other people. Just as swiftly as he had kissed her, he turned back to the paper and signed the last document, dotting the i's of his first name forcefully. There. It was done.  
Killian scooped up the papers and the pen and handed them to Milah, waiting for her to say something. 

"Thank you, Killian, for all the good memories." She gave him a smile even as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. 

"You're welcome, Milah." He stood up then, prompting her to do the same. "Goodbye, love." He returned her smile sincerely. Yes, things would be alright once they parted ways. She had a man she obviously loved enough to leave him, and he just met a woman he would love getting to know better. 

"Goodbye." 

She turned and stepped towards the door. Once out the front door she paused for a second and glanced back at him, giving him a little wave. He waved back then watched her leave. 

Once she was gone down the street, he closed the door and let out a long sigh, leaning against the wood and closing his eyes for a few moments. He would get over her, and going on a date with Emma Swan would help. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma stood in front of her closet with one hand on her hip and the other brushing the soft golden fur of Archie as he stood next to her. “I have no clue what to wear.” She said, speaking to her dog (yes it happened quite often since he was the only companion she had). She leaned into her closet and looked through her options. She could wear that light pink dress . . . but there was also this black skirt. Or she could go with something classic and wear some jeans and knee-high boots with a nice blouse and one of her leather jackets. Shaking her head to herself, she decided to go take a shower and then figure out what to wear. It was, after all, only five thirty. 

After taking an unusually long time in the shower, she stepped out nearly half an hour later feeling much better. Wrapping her body in one towel and her long hair in another, she walked out into the kitchen to get herself a snack. In walking to the kitchen, however, she stumbled over the fallen trash can and saw a very guilty looking dog sulking by the back door. Her head falling sideways and a gasp of exasperation escaping her, she knelt down to pick up the trash strewn about. “Bad boy, Archie,” She reprimanded sternly, “bad boy.” She finished picking up all the trash then walked over and let Archie outside. “And you’re staying out here until I get back.” 

She made sure the gate was locked before leaving him out there (she was never leaving it unlocked again. Although if it ended in a maybe relationship with a seriously attractive man, maybe it was worth it.) Then went to go tackle the problem of getting dressed once again. 

Emma finally decided on wearing a black skirt with a silky maroon long sleeved blouse, and her brown leather jacket. She kept her make-up simple: some mascara, eyeliner, and a light pink lip gloss. They were only going out for drinks at a bar, so she didn’t need to be too dressed up. She felt an unusual amount of first-date jitters that she normally didn’t feel, and told herself to calm down. “Just because he seems to like you, and you let him crash on your couch after a rough night, doesn’t mean this date will go well, Emma.” She told herself, leaning on the edge of her bathroom counter in front of the mirror and pulling her hair up into a simple high ponytail, gently curled. After staring at her reflection for a few moments longer, she pulled a face at herself then left the bathroom to pull on some socks and tall brown leather boots. If anything, this date would probably go terribly, considering he’d just divorced his wife. But hey, he’d accepted her offer, so she wasn’t going to be the one ruining the date. 

Once dressed and ready to go, she flopped down on the couch and looked at the clock hanging on the wall across the room. Six thirty-eight. It wouldn’t take her any longer than fifteen minutes to get to Emmet’s, so she didn’t have to leave just yet. But it wouldn’t hurt to get there just a _little bit_ early, right? Shaking her head to herself at her uncharacteristic nervousness, Emma stood up and grabbed her keys and her phone and walked out the door to her car. 

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into a parking space next to a rather nice car, vaguely wondering if Killian was already inside. She took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out, shutting the door and then walking inside the establishment. The pub was even nicer than it had looked online, and was obviously a very popular place. She stopped for a moment by the door, scanning the room for the man she was to meet here, then jumped, startled, as his voice greeted her from behind. 

“Looks like we had the same idea, getting here early.” His accent was smooth and lightly teasing, and when she turned around with a smile that she had not planned; he too, was smiling. Or rather, smirking. 

“Guess so.” She laughed, feeling more relaxed already. She stepped aside so that he could walk fully into the bar, and let him lead the way to a table. He was wearing a black button-down shirt (the top three buttons unbuttoned, showing a tantalizing amount of chest and dark chest hair) with a black leather jacket, and black skinny jeans. He sure wore a lot of black (not that she was complaining), but he made it look sexy rather than creepy-biker-guy. When Killian turned around to pull out a chair for her (such a gentleman), she noticed a necklace swinging forward, off his chest. A skull and a dagger. She wondered what the story was behind the pendants. 

“Well, love, you invited me here for drinks, so what do you say we get some?” His voice pulled her out of her musings and her eyes darted back up to his face as he sat down across from her. “And perhaps a snack? Fries sound good?” 

“A drink sounds great, but I’d love some onion rings right about now, if that’s alright with you.” She replied with a hesitant smile. Her stomach rumbled at that moment and she laughed, seeing Killian do the same. “I forgot to eat dinner.” 

“Of course it is, Swan.” Another lopsided smile aimed directly at her and Emma actually had to remind herself to breathe. What was it about him that was making her crazy like a lovesick teenager? It wasn’t just his looks, although that played a big part. There was just something _comforting_ about him, the way he automatically put her at ease. 

_Like Neal_. 

The unexpected thought crossed her mind and made her smile falter for a few moments. She quickly readjusted her expression, hoping Killian hadn’t noticed. Then she saw his happy smile fade into that of a slightly concerned expression and her stomach sank; he’d noticed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Emma’s smile stumbled downward and her laugh stopped, he noticed. He would always notice the little things, the details that showed uncertainty or hesitancy, because in his line of work it was his job to notice those things. Because sometimes, it could mean the difference between life or death. He saw her expression sort through several emotions: the first being surprise, then disappointment, then a sort of confused happiness, then finally a less-than-sincere smile as she attempted to hide whatever thought had just crossed her mind mid-laugh. But before he could ask what had just happened, a waitress flounced up with a flirty smile aimed at him and then asked what she could get for them.

“Two beers and a large order of onion rings, please.” He glanced at the woman sitting across from him and she nodded slightly, confirming their order. Once the waitress wrote down their order and walked away, Killian looked back at Emma and leaned back in his chair with a small smile on his face. “What’s on your mind, Swan? You just went through several emotions just a moment ago, and I don’t mean to pry, but was it something I did?” 

Very much to his surprise, Emma laughed then shook her head, “No, no it wasn’t you at all. It was just a thought I hadn’t been expecting, that’s all.” She looked at him, her expression bright once again, her troubled thoughts of a moment ago all but gone. “But . . . on another topic, I am very curious as to why you showed up in my yard, drunk off your butt, and on the verge of tears.” 

He flashed a quick, apologetic smile, then rested an elbow on the table, propping a finger against his temple. “I already told you, my wife left me. Two nights ago. We signed the divorce papers today, actually, so she’s officially gone.” 

“That was awfully quick.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded. 

“She fell out of love and I quickly followed suit, what else is there to tell?” Killian let himself sigh, recalling the way Milah had looked at him before she walked away for the last time. But why in the bloody hell was he thinking about Milah on a date with another woman? Not good form, Jones, not good form. 

“Oh there’s obviously more to tell, but I’ll let it slide. For now.” Her lips quirked up into a grin and he stopped his Milah train of thought to realize just how beautiful she was. She, like him, seemed partial to leather jackets, and her simple ponytail showed off all the lovely features of her face. “Anyway, you should just be glad I didn’t call the cops. My dad’s the deputy and he would have thrown you in a cell faster than you could apologize for stepping onto my grass. Oh, and he would be just as angry had I told him that you spent the night on my couch. But then my mom would have argued that I should have pity on you and let you stay. My parents almost always see eye to eye, but when it comes to strangers, one is quick to trust and forgive, while the other is quick to toss out and forget.” Emma continued and Killian jerked his gaze back up to hers and nodded, a smirk sliding onto his face. 

“In the state I was in, I deserved to be thrown into a jail cell for the night,” He joked, “Although I’m extremely grateful that you didn’t. And your mother sounds like a kind woman.”

Emma smiled sincerely and nodded, “She is. She’s a second grade teacher and loves her job more than anything.” She paused and her smile drooped slightly, “Except for me. She probably loves me more than anything, given the fact that we only met a couple of years ago.”

He tilted his head to the side in interest, “A couple of years ago?” 

Her gaze had been wandering down to the table, but now quickly snapped back up to his as her hand rose to wave his question off. “Oh, long story. I’d prefer not to go into it.” And just like that it was like a switch had been thrown inside of her. A wall veiled her eyes and her emotions, keeping herself distanced. She wasn’t quick to trust, so he could tell. She was somewhat of an open book, however, and he could easily see that that wall of hers wouldn’t stay up for long. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma knew she shouldn’t just shut him down like that, but she wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about her long, complicated story of her life on a first date with a virtual stranger. So, naturally, her defenses went up. So much for feeling comfortable, now it was just awkward. _Come on, Emma, ask him something!_

“What about you? You got any family?” She spoke up several rather tense moments later, trying her best (and failing miserably) to lower her walls. Maybe if he showed her a bit about him, she would open up. But knowing herself, probably not. 

Killian opened his mouth to speak just as their drinks and the onion rings arrived. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of freshly fried onion rings, and she reached over to take one, biting into it and nodding for him to speak. He took a sip of his beer, then began. “I was raised on a ship, ironically enough, and never knew my mother. I have an older brother, and my father raised us both to be captains of his ship. My father, unfortunately, passed when I was just a boy, so Liam raised the both of us and he took role as the captain of the _Jewel of the Realm._ This necklace, actually, is his.” He looked down and lifted the pendants off his chest and held them out for her to inspect. They looked incredibly old, and were obviously highly treasured by him. 

“It was your fathers?” 

“No, my brothers’. I already told you the tale of his death, didn’t I?” When Emma nodded, he continued. “After he passed, I became captain and changed the name of my ship to the name you now see it as. The _Jolly Roger_.” His eyes met hers for a few brief moments, the bright blue of his eyes clashing surprisingly well with the dark brown nearly black of his hair. He picked up an onion ring and she did the same, and all too soon they were gone. 

Forty-five minutes and two more baskets of onion rings later, they finished off their second round of drinks and were carrying on a comfortable, if rather lively, conversation of swapping their war stories. Killian’s pertaining mostly to his life as a captain and the things he faced on the open sea, and hers being of the bail bonds sort. Her face was flushed from laughter and the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, and was more than happy to sit here for the rest of the night and talk with the smiling and laughing man across the table from her. She could feel the slight effects of the beer going to her head, leaving her feeling more relaxed. It was nice, to feel comfortable around someone for once, rather than on guard and watching their every move. He was showing no signs of wanting to leave either, so when she suggested they go play pool, he agreed eagerly.

“I take it you’ve played before, Swan?” He asked her as they made their way over to the pool table in the back of the pub. Her eyes met his as he glanced back at her, and Emma nodded, grinning.

“More times than I could count. I’ve been in the bar scene quite a few times, and the best way to keep someone comfortable and talking is by giving them something to do. I’ve become pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.” 

Killian chuckled, stopping next to the rack of cue sticks and picking one out. “Well, I don’t need any incentive to be comfortable around you, if you were still concerned. But let’s see how well you can really play, shall we?” He looked up at her with a cheeky smirk and a cocked eyebrow and she returned his smirk with her own. 

“You’re on, pirate.” Emma grabbed her own cue stick and rubbed chalk on the tip, tossing the small cube to him once she was done. She set up the balls in the middle of the table then set the white cue ball in front of the triangle. She leaned down, cue stick poised and ready, then sent the ball rolling. The sound of the balls hitting against each other brought back memories of playing countless games with many other men. She barely remembered any of their faces and definitely didn’t remember their names, but one thing always stood out to her whenever she was playing pool with a guy (even if most of them were frauds who just wanted out of jail). They were always watching her, ready to correct her or help her, or show her how to play even though she knew very well how to play. But this time, as she stood up and looked at Killian, gesturing for him to take his turn, he was looking at the balls on the pool table looking as if he was deep in thought and didn’t like what he was thinking. 

“Hey, you gonna play, or just stand there with a frown on your face?” She teased, hoping to bring him out of his thoughts. She knew the feeling, being suddenly taken down a train of thought you don’t want to be on. It was distracting and usually unhappy. 

He quickly looked up at her when she spoke, an easy smile sliding onto his lips as he leaned up from the wall he was leaning on and came to stand next to her. “Sorry, love. Of course I’m going to play, and win.” He winked at her and she simply shook her head in return. 

“Want to bet on that?” She was half joking, but Killian seemed to take it seriously. 

He slid his gaze over the pool table for a few moments, then returned his focus to her. “If I win, you owe me another round of drinks on another night.” The smirk still played on his lips, but she could tell he was serious. Not one to back down from a challenge, she nodded. 

“And if I win, you owe _me_ another round of drinks, and we play another game after this one.” Emma was surprised by the words that came out of her mouth even as she spoke them. Was she seriously betting that if she won, they would go on another date? Either way, it seemed, they were going out again. Not that she was going to complain, honestly. Killian was unspeakably good-looking, a gentleman, and he genuinely interested her. She hadn’t felt truly interested or attracted to anyone like the way she felt tonight since . . . well. . . Neal. It thrilled her and terrified her all at once, her brain telling her to shut down and push him away because something bad could happen; and her instincts telling her to run with it and see what happened. She would trust her instinct on this one. So, raising an eyebrow up at the man standing only a foot away from her side, she said, “So is this a deal or what?” 

Killian’s smirk widened into a full blown grin and he nodded, holding out his left hand to shake. She took his hand and they shook as he replied. “Deal.” His handshake was warm and firm, and for the first time she noticed the many rings that adorned his slender fingers. She looked down at them as he pulled his hand away. 

“You sure wear a lot of jewelry.” She commented, stepping away as he bent over the table to hit the cue ball. 

He glanced at her for a moment then returned his gaze to the pool table, still grinning. “Comes with the trade, lass.” She shrugged and nodded, watching as he hit the cue ball and sent it rolling straight into the eight ball, which then rolled into a pocket. It was a close game, and Emma had to admit that Killian was just as an expert a player as her. She, however, ended up winning, and so they set up the fifteen balls for another round. 

It was around nine forty-five when she said that she should probably head home. He easily agreed, and once they paid for their drinks and onion rings that they’d had earlier, the two of them walked out into the parking lot. The night had cooled off, so she pulled her leather coat back on as they stepped out the door. She looked over at Killian and smiled sincerely, “I had a really good time tonight. I’m actually looking forward to doing it again.” 

Killian smiled back at her and inclined his head slightly, “As am I. Perhaps next time we’ll actually have dinner instead of deep fried vegetables?” 

His comment made her smile wider and she let a laugh escape easily, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. “Sounds great. Thank you for the nice night, Killian.”

“I should be the one thanking you for all you’ve done for me, Swan.” He scoffed lightheartedly, stopping next to her as she walked up to the door of her car. “Goodnight, love.” He took her fingers and lifted it to his lips, leaving a light, tingling kiss to the back of her hand (who even did that anymore? All the more reason to see him as a good man), and then he smiled and turned away, heading to his own vehicle. 

Emma found herself blushing profusely as she got into her car, happy with how the night had turned out. Maybe not _all_ men were untrustworthy liars, Killian Jones least of them all. As she drove home, she replayed the date in her head, unable to find a single thing that had gone wrong. She held onto that little spark of hope that her mother always told her everything started with, and instead of blowing it out like she did with every other bad relationship in her life, she fanned it gently, letting it grow. Maybe she could learn to trust him fully, and just _maybe_ he could be the one to help her believe in love again.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments! I would absolutely love to see what you guys thought! 
> 
> Cheers!


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